FBI's Most Unwanted?
by TigerLily888
Summary: When Emily discovers to her dismay what her colleagues really think of her, Garcia tries to help but nothing ever turns out as planned. My prompts - Hotch, Emily, bar, alcohol, dancing. Need I say more? Oneshot.


**This fic is dedicated to phoebe9509 who has been so supportive of my current multi-chaptered fic "You're Not Alone". I am so glad you love it. Thank you for all your really awesome reviews and thoughts. This one's for you! I hope you enjoy it.**

**Please note this is M rated, so mature readers only, please.**

Emily was on the way back from the restroom when she heard the sound of giggles and male laughter emitting from Garcia's office.

She detoured from her usual route back to her desk and popped her head in. Derek, JJ and Dave were crowded around Garcia, their eyes fixed on something on her screen.

Curious, Emily walked up towards them. "Hey guys, what are you looking at?"

Upon hearing her, the oddest thing happened. Every single one of her team members jerked up and gave her an extremely guilty look. And the guiltiest looking one among them was Garcia.

"What's going on?" Emily was now in front of the screen and all it showed were rows upon rows of numbers. She looked at her friends suspiciously.

"Uh, nothing, nothing at all, we were just looking at some jokes." Garcia flushed bright red, a dead giveaway that they were _not_ looking at jokes.

Emily stared at Dave and Derek, who both couldn't quite meet her eyes. And these were men who had hides thicker than a rhino's. "Okay, you guys are freaking me out. Why can't you tell me what's going on? Is it something about me?"

"Um...I think Dave and I will just let you ladies talk." Derek edged towards the door as he spoke, Dave right behind him.

Emily debated making them stay, but then thought it might be better to just have the girls there. Especially if the something they were looking at was about her. Once the guys had left she turned to her closest friends. "All right, spit it out."

JJ winced and looked at Garcia. "Emily, I don't really think it's something you need to know about."

"Pene, I swear, if you don't start telling me what you guys were looking at a moment ago, I'm going to confiscate every single one of your beloved pens and you wouldn't be able to get them back for a whole month!" Garcia's pens were completely individual designs and it was her hobby to scour for new ones online, which wasn't as easy as it sounded. So this was a pretty serious threat.

"I...I...," Garcia's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "I can't tell you, Em, I really, really can't!"

Emily upped her threat. "And then I'm going to change the coffee in the machine to decaf."

Garcia gasped in horror. "You won't! You can't even drink decaf yourself!"

"Watch me. I'm pretty sure you'll break before me." Emily crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes down at her now woeful friend.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you!"

"Pene!" JJ gave her a warning look that spoke volumes.

"I can't not live without coffee, JJ!" Garcia turned pleading eyes to Emily, who ignored them.

"What is it, then?" Emily braced herself for the news. The three of them talked about anything and everything under the sun, even stuff that if their partners ever found out, would likely have caused Will and Kevin to cheerfully strangled their significant others in their sleep. Emily, unfortunately, still inhabited the land of the pathetic singles, so she hadn't had much to contribute in the way of her partner's sexual expertise, or in the case of Kevin, sexual phobia.

Garcia bit her lip and turned back to her computer. A second later a screen popped up. Emily stepped closer to look. She frowned. "What is it? It looks like a betting site."

"I was told about this site by a friend in the DC field office. It looks like a betting site, but it's more like a voting site."

Emily frowned. "I don't understand, what has it got to do with me?"

"Oh boy, here we go," she heard JJ mutter behind her. "It's all going to hit the fan."

"Umm..." Emily had never seen Garcia so nervous in her life.

"Okay, just so you know, I am officially freaking the hell out. Spit it out now, Pene." Emily made sure her voice was super icy so that Garcia knew she meant business.

"Okay, okay. The website is where FBI employees get on to vote for people in particular categories. And you're on one of the categories...um...list. Actually I think you might be on two of the lists." Garcia managed to say all these in the space of three seconds. She practically cowered when she saw the look on Emily's face.

"What?" Emily enunciated the word carefully. She couldn't believe her ears. "Bring that list up immediately, Pene."

Garcia scrolled down with lightning speed and found what she was looking for. She quickly moved her chair to the left so Emily could have full view of the screen.

Emily felt her jaw drop open when she saw the list on which her name resided. "Oh my God! Are you freaking kidding me? I'm on the 'FBI's top 10 Most Unwanted' list?" She must have looked murderously angry because Garcia pushed herself further back to increase the distance between Emily and herself. Emily wasn't surprised, she _felt_ murderously angry. And embarrassed.

"Em, it really isn't quite as bad as you think," JJ said soothingly, putting a placating hand on her arm.

Emily shot her friend a look. "I don't see your name up there, JJ," she retorted sarcastically. "How bout you don't tell me what to think, or feel, until you get yourself a spot on the list. God, _everyone_ in Washington must think I'm a complete loser." She took another look on the screen. "What the hell? The only person more unwanted than me is Geraldine Turner." Geraldine Turner was a rather large lady in payroll who loved her food. "How is that freaking possible?" She moaned, covering her eyes with her hand. "I am never, ever going to be able to face anyone ever again."

"Hey, JJ's right, Em, it really isn't so bad." Garcia wheeled herself back to the screen. "You know I mentioned that you were on another list. Here!"

Emily was almost too afraid to look. What was this one going to say? The 'FBI's top 10 least horizontally accessible women'? Or was it the 'FBI's top 10 women most likely to have their panties stapled to their waist'?

"Oh," was all that came out of her mouth when she saw the title. "I'm confused."

"See? We told you! You should be happy, Em. You're number 3 on the top 10 most desirable women in the FBI. That's like a major accomplishment!" Garcia made it sound like Emily should feel more proud of this dubious honour than her profiling skills. "You were only beaten by Tiffany-Jane Peterson-Browning whom as we all know is the most ridden on bicycle in the DC field office, and Louise Jefferson who was a former Miss USA. And hello, Agent Jefferson is a public affairs liaison for the Director, so of course she's going to get a million votes. Not everyone knows about this website, you know."

"Then how the hell did I even get voted? I don't even know that many people!" Emily flopped herself down on the edge of Garcia's desk. "I don't understand, how can I be desired and unwanted at the same time?"

"You know you are amazingly beautiful, Em, but maybe the unwanted thing is a bit of a question mark, you know, is Emily Prentiss one of the most unwanted agents because people think you are umm..." JJ hesitated.

"A loser in the dating game? Or maybe they just think I took a vow of celibacy. Or how about a nun undercover as an FBI agent." Emily felt thoroughly depressed.

"Okay, we obviously need to change your image asap. And I've got just the idea." Garcia gestured for Emily and JJ to come close.

* * *

><p>"Pene, this was a REALLY bad idea!" hissed Emily pulling at the straps of her very revealing red silk dress. The top of the dress had a wide scooped neckline which she fear she was going to spill out of if she leaned over a little too far. Which was why she was wearing a strapless demi-bra underneath. Other than the revealing neckline, the dress was actually pretty tame, hugging her bodice and then flaring out into a swirly hemline ending at her knees, perfect for dancing. On her freshly manicured feet high-heeled red sandals which practically screamed take me now. Because, hell, who was she kidding? She was desperate for some action.<p>

Just then she saw a guy who couldn't have been more than 21 heading in her direction. He stopped short in his tracks though when she shot him a 'don't even think about it' glare. She took a breath. Okay, so she'd just established that she wasn't quite that desperate. Which likely explained why she hadn't seen any action in so long that there were probably cobwebs in her punany.

"Wow, you shot that one down but good," murmured JJ who was next to her, stifling a smile.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I don't want to get on the top 10 cougars in the FBI list," she retorted drily. They were lucky enough to get a table in the crowded bar, Garcia rushing forward to catch a table where the occupants were just leaving.

"Peters, Jansson, Smythe," Emily nodded to the people who were leaving. "God, could it be more incestuous in here?" she spoke in a low voice as she inclined her head at another agent she was acquainted with.

"That's the whole point, Em. This is hands down the bar where most of the FBI employees hang out. You want them to see you socialising and maybe getting some action, right?"

"Well, if this new slutty Emily look doesn't work tonight then I might as well just forget about sex from now on. I am so not dressing up like this ever again. I may be desperate but I don't want people I work with to think I am." She rolled her eyes when JJ and Garcia giggled. "Oh yeah, they already think I am. Can't believe I forgot about the list for a second there. I'm going to get us some drinks."

She got up and walked to the bar, doing a double take when she saw a familiar face she wasn't expecting to see in the corner of the bar. And then she realised who he was with. What the? She hesitated, acutely aware of her attire, but also realising that the bar wasn't that big so she was going to get spotted at some stage during the evening. Having made up her mind, she walked over to the table. "Hey guys, what are you doing here?"

Hotch, Derek, Dave and Reid looked up at her.

"Hi Emily. Wow, you look really different tonight." Reid looked slightly taken aback. He probably never saw so much eyeliner and red lipstick on her before tonight. She wished she had some fangs to flash at him. He would have probably jumped into Dave's lap in fright.

"Thanks Reid. I think I'll take that as a compliment."

She turned to Hotch. "Did the guys finally manage to persuade you out for a drink?"

"Yeah, it's a Friday and Jessica's taken Jack to visit her parents so I thought why not. Special occasion?" He nodded at her dress.

"Oh this old thing?" She forced out a grin, trying to cover up her embarrassment. He stared straight into her eyes, his face inscrutable. She blinked at the sudden feeling that he was looking straight into her innermost thoughts. She wasn't sure how long they were staring at each other but she came back to reality at the sound of a polite cough.

"So Princess, see anyone you want to take home tonight?" Emily widened her eyes at Derek, glaring at him to shut up.

"I am not here to pick up," she said through gritted teeth.

"Probably shouldn't have worn those fuck-me heels then," he said, laughing. At that comment, the other three pairs of eyes shot down to her feet. Dave and Reid actually peered under table just so they could see.

Emily felt a tide of red rise up from her chest. Her skin probably matched her dress perfectly just about now. She wished she had her backup right about now. She would have pistol whipped Morgan. She didn't even dare to look to see what Hotch's expression was revealing. Although knowing him, probably nothing. "I am going to get you back for that, Morgan. Posting that you have syphilis on your Facebook wall comes to mind."

Derek sobered immediately. "Whoa, Princess, hang on there! No need to do that. I'm sorry, all right?"

She still didn't feel like forgiving him, but thought she might as well take advantage of the situation. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his chair. "Come on, you're going to buy us ladies the first round of drinks."

* * *

><p>When she got back to their table, she saw that Garcia and JJ were chatting with a good looking dark haired man in his late thirties whom she recognised.<p>

"Tom, fancy meeting you here." Her tone was sarcastic.

"Emily. I know, what were the odds of us meeting at an established FBI hangout?" SSA Barlow got up and kissed her on the cheek. "I saw these beautiful ladies over here and thought you must be around here somewhere." He gave her an approving look. "You look ravishing tonight."

"Thank you. Not too much is it?" She grinned at Tom. She had known him since they first started working together at the Cleveland field office eight years ago and they caught up on a regular basis now that he had been transferred to the DC office. They had known each other long enough for them to be completely honest to each other. Which was why she burst out laughing at his reply.

"Well, I'm no Carson Kressley but it _is_ kind of on the slutty side, Em. I can practically see your navel from up here." Tom was six-foot-four.

She punched him in the arm.

"Ow. Easy. I'm going to need that arm tonight, judging by the look that blonde's giving me." Emily rolled her eyes as Garcia and JJ giggled. They were entranced by Tom as pretty much most women were when they met him. For some reason though she had never been attracted to him in that way. It was probably a good thing, he would have broken her heart five times over by now. "Anyway, so the ladies were saying that you were looking for some male attention tonight."

Not again. Emily shot her two friends a glare before turning her gaze back to Tom. "I know what you're going to say, but I think I can handle my love life without your help, Tom. Don't forget I was the recipient of your matchmaking attempt three years ago. I'm pretty sure the restraining order's still in force."

Tom winced at the reminder of the time he had introduced Emily to a banker he had met through another friend. The banker had become somewhat obsessed with Emily, Fatal Attraction style. "Good point. This is probably a good time for me to take leave of you." He looked at JJ and Garcia. "I'll see you lovely ladies around. Em, I'll give you a call next week and you can tell me whether you were successful at achieving maximum penetration tonight." He winked at her as he walked off.

_Next time I'm definitely bringing my Glock with me_, she thought to herself when she saw that there was nothing on the table she could throw at his head without causing a head injury, or more importantly, interrupting her plans for the evening.

"I've said it once, but I'll say it again, that man is gorgeous. I still can't believe you've never wanted to sleep with him."

"No way, it's like thinking of sleeping with your brother. Gross." Emily sat down and gulped down half her wine.

JJ lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

"Not really. I just saw the guys and thanks to Derek, Hotch now thinks I'm here to pick up."

"But...but you are!" Garcia looked confused.

"I know, Pene, but I don't want Hotch to know that! Not only is he our boss, he's...Hotch! If I didn't know he'd been married and has a child I would have thought he was like Data, except not fully functioning." She winked at Garcia who giggled, while it was JJ's turn to look confused at Emily's reference to Star Trek. "I'm pretty sure the thought of sex hasn't crossed his mind since Haley left and I'd bet my last dollar that he would never, ever, pick up."

"Hey, what do you girls think he would use as a pick up line?" Garcia asked as she took a sip of her pink cocktail, a wide smile on her face.

"Mm..." Emily drank the rest of her wine as she thought. "Would you like to go back to my place and look at my reports?" she said in her best imitation of Hotch's deep voice. JJ and Garcia laughed in delight. "Or, Hi, I'm Tall, Dark and Workaholic, can I buy you a drink?"

Garcia finally interrupted their laughter. "Okay, okay, as much fun as it is to talk about our Unit Chief, we need to get back to business. Let's see." Her eyes skimmed across the bar. "That guy over there in the black suit and glasses looks promising. He's kinda cute in a geeky sorta way." She grinned at Emily. "Although I think I might be projecting. He seems more my type."

Emily checked him out nonetheless. "Yeah, he's a bit too nerdy, Pene, and that's saying a lot coming from me."

"How about that tall blonde guy over there? He's definitely cute and he's thrown a few looks your way." JJ inclined her head in his direction.

Emily looked over, then shook her head. "Too muscley. He looks like a gym bunny." She looked around and saw a dark haired man sitting by himself on one of the barstools. "Okay, I got one. Let's see how I go."

She was back five minutes later, another round of drinks in hand.

"What happened?" Garcia and JJ chorused.

"No go, he's just recently separated from his wife judging by the pale bit of skin on his left hand. And he smelt like he hadn't taken a shower in a couple of days." They all made a face at the same time. BO was such a turn off.

They continued to look for potential men for Emily but she kept finding some sort of fault with the ones they pointed out. One was too thin, another too large, another too wimpy, another too alpha, yet another too beta.

An hour and a half later, Garcia groaned. "Em, what is wrong with you? I now know why you haven't been out on a date for eight months. You are way too picky! This is not the way to change your image, buttercup."

"If I didn't know better, Emily, I would have said you were deliberately trying not to get a date tonight." JJ looked suspiciously at her.

"That's not true," Emily protested. "Hey, I danced with four different guys, remember? I can't help it if none of them lit my fire."

"Yeah, except at least seven guys came and asked to buy you a drink. I don't know about you, JJ, but I'm starving. Come on, let's go get some dinner and then we can decide where we can go afterwards. Maybe we can regroup and plan our strategy."

"Girls, I really, really appreciate what you've done for me tonight, but I have to call it a night. I'm exhausted." Emily gave them an apologetic smile.

"You're giving up already?" JJ looked surprised.

"I know, I'm soft, but really, trying to find the right guy is tiring. I think we were a bit ambitious to think I could get a date tonight. Seeing as I didn't manage to get one for eight months," she added, referring to Garcia's earlier comment.

Garcia looked sheepish. "All right, but we're not giving up, okay?" She stood up and gave Emily a hug.

"You sure you don't want to at least have dinner with us before going home?" JJ asked. When Emily shook her head, JJ bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "See you Monday, then?"

"Bye." Emily sighed as she took another sip of her beer. After tonight's efforts, she was pretty sure she would have overtaken Geraldine Turner by now and claimed top spot on the most unwanted list. Maybe she should have taken up gym bunny's offer to go back to his place. She would at least have been able to tell Tom she had gotten some in-between-the-sheets action. Maybe even an orgasm or two. It wasn't like intelligence was a requirement for a one night stand. Except she just wasn't the one night stand type. She needed to have some sort of intellectual and emotional connection with that person. Physical attraction wasn't enough for her. Yep, she was destined to die alone in her apartment, surrounded by her 15 cats.

She looked up in surprise when a beer was placed in front of her. "Hotch! Where are the guys?" She glanced around but didn't see them.

"They went to get some food with JJ and Garcia. Mind if I join you?"

"No, of course not. How come you didn't go with them?"

"I'm pretty tired. I was going to finish my beer and go home but then JJ said you were still here so I thought I'd come and finish my beer and keep you company."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Hopefully your presence will keep the guys away. I'm kinda tired of being offered a drink."

He looked at her, emotions well hidden so she couldn't tell what he was really thinking. "I thought that was the point."

"It was, but I'm over it. It was Garcia's idea in the first place, really. I shouldn't have agreed to it." Emily finished her beer and took the one Hotch had just bought. How many drinks had she had tonight? She shrugged to herself. Who cared. It was Saturday tomorrow and one of the other teams was on call.

"What brought this on?"

She may be a bit tipsy, but she was alert enough to know that there was no way in hell she was telling him that. "Oh, nothing. The girls thought it was past time for me to find a man. Or at the very least, get a date for the night." She was pleased with the euphemism she had come up with.

"Is that why you wore that dress tonight?" Emily looked up at Hotch just in time to catch his gaze pause on her neckline. Her plunging neckline.

"Hotch?"

"Mm?" She stared at him, amused when it took him another second before he dragged his eyes back up to her face. Who would have thought her supervisor was human after all? "Uh, sorry, what were you saying?"

She tried to suppress her smile. "I think you were the one who asked me a question. And yes, I wore this dress tonight to get myself a date. Fat lot of good it did."

His eyes narrowed. "You seemed to have received a lot of attention."

She raised her eyebrows. "You were watching me?" Did she just see a look of jealousy in his eyes? Surely not.

He shrugged, apparently choosing not to answer. Hotch picked up his beer and drank. Emily watched the strong muscles of his neck move as he swallowed. Although his suit jacket was still on, he had taken his tie off since she saw him last and the top three buttons of his shirt were opened. She could see the neckline of the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. She idly wondered what his chest looked like under his clothes.

"Emily? Are you all right?"

She jumped at his voice. Oh God, she had been fantasising about Hotch. Her supervisor. What in the world was wrong with her? Her sex starved body must have finally caused her brain to have a meltdown. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just going to get us another round." She couldn't meet his eyes, jumping off the stool and hurrying off, pretending not to have heard him calling her name.

She needed something more potent, something that would help her deal with the fact that she was have sexual fantasies about Hotch. She wondered vaguely what he would do if she jumped his bones. Probably commit her. No, it would be more like, gently but firmly lift her off him and tell her she's had too much to drink. Then he'd drive her home and then pretend it had all never happened.

She got back to the table, holding two tequilas.

"Emily, do you think it's wise to have another drink?" Hotch eyed the tequila she had placed down before him warily.

"Oh, relax, Hotch, it's Friday night, and we've both had a long week. And you're child free tomorrow, so take advantage of it. When was the last time you let your hair down? Metaphorically speaking, obviously." He had just had a haircut and his hair was very short, the top bits sticking up slightly in short tuffs despite the product he had applied in an effort to tame them. Her fingers itched to comb through his dark hair.

"Obviously," he replied drily. To her surprise, even though he didn't say anything, he seemed to have taken her words to heart because he picked up his glass of tequila. Her stomach suddenly felt like it was in a freefall as she focused on his tongue licking the salt from the rim of the glass. She watched him drain his tequila shot and her mouth fell open when he fastened his mouth around the wedge of lime and sucked. Heat speared between her thighs. She shook her head to clear it. _Emily, snap out of it before you make a fool of yourself._

She followed his lead and drained her shot. When she finished sucking on her lime wedge, she looked up to see him staring at her, a heated look in his eyes. She blinked, but the next time she glanced back at him the look had vanished. She shook her head. _I must have imagined it_, she thought. Her bloody sex starved brain must have been at work again.

"That was good. I think the last time I had tequila was during my SWAT days." He smiled at her and she felt her stomach do a somersault.

Yep, she was in deep trouble. She should stop the alcohol before she lost all her senses. Which completely explained why she heard herself saying, "In that case, let's have another round and you can tell me all about those days. I love hearing stories about what a bunch of testosterone-fuelled, macho, homophobic alpha males get up to." She grinned when Hotch laughed aloud at her description. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him smile, much less laugh. Oh yeah, more tequila, definitely.

* * *

><p>Four rounds of tequila later, they were sitting next to each other, heads bent close as Hotch told her about the time his team had to rescue him as he had made a rookie mistake and lowered his guard while facing a woman. High on drugs and possessing super strength as a result, she had managed to get her arm around his neck and was threatening to strangle him if they didn't let her husband go.<p>

"Oh no, I bet you couldn't live that one down for months." She laughed at the image of Hotch being at the mercy of a petite female, albeit a drug-fuelled one.

"Try two years. They never let me forget that incident." He smiled down at her and reached over to lift the strap of her dress back up on her shoulder, his fingers warm against her cooler skin.

Emily froze when Hotch's eyes met hers. They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart. She suddenly blinked and the spell was broken. To cover the fact that she was completely flustered, she hopped off her stool and grabbed his hand. "C'mon, dance with me."

"Emily, I don't think..." Hotch started to protest but she tugged harder at his hand.

"Don't think, just dance with me."

He stumbled a little at the edge of the dance floor making her grin. She had never seen him make any movement that was not graceful or confident. He must be more drunk than she thought. He seemed to her to be a man who could hold his liquor, so he must have had more than a few before joining her.

The dance floor was crowded and they ended up in a spot in the back corner of the bar, near the hallway leading to the restrooms. Lady Antebellum was singing Need You Now and Emily suppressed a smile at how apt the song was considering the way she was currently feeling. She rested her hands on his shoulders. He placed his hands on her waist and they started to sway slowly to the music. Emily closed her eyes, letting the music wash the tension and stress away. It had been so long since she had danced with a man she had forgotten what it was like. She could just feel the muscles in his shoulders flex as they moved together. The smell of his lemony cologne mixed with his own scent teased her nostrils. His hands on her waist were warm, heating her skin through the thin silk of her dress.

Suddenly Emily felt someone bump hard into her back, knocking her into Hotch. His hands tightened reflexively on her waist and she automatically braced her forearms on his chest. She lifted her startled eyes to his, her body going still when she saw the awareness slowly dawn in his eyes. And in that moment, she knew she had to kiss him. Just this once. Even if it would cause her extreme awkwardness on Monday. His lips, which were habitually pressed together tightly were slightly parted as he gazed down at her, his eyes dark with some emotion she knew she should be able to identify, but couldn't.

He hadn't stepped back or pushed her away, which she took to be an encouraging sign. She reached up and pressed her mouth to his. His mouth was motionless under hers but she didn't give up because she could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest under her right forearm. It was not the heart rate of an unaffected man. She slipped her arms up until she could link her hands on the back of his neck, tilting her head slightly to better fit her lips to his.

Just when she thought he was never going to respond, she felt, rather than heard him emit a growl and then his lips were pressing hard against hers. Her hands moved into his hair and pulled his head closer as his mouth ravaged and his tongue pillaged her mouth. Emily, too, couldn't get enough of him, pressing her body even closer to his, so that not a breath of air could get between them. She felt his hands slide down her hips and cup her bottom, pulling her hard into him. She moaned into his mouth when she felt the hard steel of his arousal press into her lower belly. She felt her needy centre throb in response, heavy and aching.

He suddenly wrenched his lips away from hers and she stared at his face, hard with desire, his eyes glittering with unsuppressed lust. _Please don't stop_, she begged silently. She wanted him so badly right there and then that she didn't know what she would do if he walked away now. The next moment he had pulled her into the dimly lit hallway and then they were inside a restroom. Emily caught a quick glimpse of the hand rail next to the toilet while Hotch locked the door behind them and realised that they were in the disabled restroom.

That was the last rational thought that she had because his lips were back on hers, his mouth and tongue taking possession of her so thoroughly that she could barely breathe. Without breaking contact with her lips, his hands reached behind her back and drew her zip down, and she lowered her arms accommodatingly so that he could slip the straps off her shoulders. The dress pooled on the floor at her feet and she moaned in protest when he lifted his head to look down at her.

She could only stare at him, dazed, when he muttered a curse at the sight of her in her thong and her lace bra that only just covered her nipples. "Fuck, Emily, you're so damned beautiful." Before her brain could process the fact that she had just heard him swear for the first time ever, he had already unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms. Hotch fastened his mouth on her right nipple. Emily's head fell back and she moaned at the intense spark of sensation that shot from her nipple straight down to her groin. He sucked hard, his fingers tugging gently at her other nipple. He changed sides, reaching down to strip her thong off with his left hand.

Emily would have fallen to the floor if his arm wasn't braced like an iron bar around her waist when he slipped his hand between her thighs and slid his fingers gently through the humid warmth at the apex. "Emily, you're so wet, baby. Are you wet for me?" he murmured in a low voice against her throat before biting her collarbone lightly.

As his middle finger start to stroke her clit she blindly nodded in assent, having lost her voice somewhere between the dance floor and the restroom. She reached up and frantically grabbed at his shoulders, the material of his suit jacket bunched in her fists. She could tell how aroused she was from the speed at which his finger moved, slickly rubbing the sensitive bunch of nerves over and over, the tension building and building until it finally exploded, the shockwave travelling through her entire body. She opened her mouth to scream but he covered her mouth with his, muffling it.

She had barely recovered when he backed her up against the cold tiled wall behind her, using his thigh to spread her thighs apart. She reached down to undo his belt but he stopped her.

"Not yet. I want you to come again." Her eyes locked helplessly with his and then she felt him push a finger into her. She whimpered at the combination of pleasure and pain. It had been so long, and combined with her vertical position, his finger felt like the size of a penis.

"Easy," he murmured soothingly, drawing his finger out and then pushing it back in. After a while, her body adjusted and she closed her eyes, everything in her focussed on the incredible sensations coursing through her heated channel. Her eyes flew open again when he added a second finger, her body resisting at first. Hotch held his fingers still within her, using the heel of his hand to press against her swollen clit. The resulting wave of pleasure caused her body to produce a rush of moisture, easing the way for him.

And just like the last time, she could only cling to him as he pumped his fingers into her, stopping every now and then grind his hand against her sensitive bud. She started to rock her hips into his hand to meet the thrusts of his fingers, the tension once again beginning to coil low in her stomach.

"That's it, sweetheart, keep going. I want you to come for me again. Ride my hand, that's it." And when he said, "Come now, come for me, Emily," she sobbed and bit her lip hard as another climax swept through her, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity.

She leaned back against the wall, barely able to stand as she watched his hands undo his belt and unzip his pants with amazing speed. He didn't bother taking his pants off, merely pushing his boxer-briefs down and releasing his swollen cock to her gaze. Emily experienced a desperate need to taste him and kneeling down on the floor, took his beautiful length in her hand and put her mouth on him.

"Fuck," The word was hissed out through gritted teeth. His hands tangled in her hair as she sucked lovingly on the head of his penis, tasting the drops of precum that were leaking out. He was so aroused that the head was almost purple. She could feel the palpable tension emanating from him.

"Emily, _enough_," he bit out. She felt him tug at her hands, urging her upwards so she reluctantly released him.

"I wanted you to – " she started to say when he pushed her back against the wall.

"I know," he interrupted, face hard with restrained desire as he lifted her up, hands under her upper thighs. Emily locked her legs around his waist, holding her breath when she felt his shaft probe her wet entrance.

"Hold on to me," was his only warning before he plunged into her. Emily swore that her vision actually dimmed from the shocking sensation of his iron hard cock driving into her tight channel. He paused, breathing hard next to her right ear, giving her a few seconds to adjust to him. And then he was thrusting into her frantically, desperately, as if this was the final day of their existence on this earth. Without pausing, he lifted his head so that he could look down at her face.

Their eyes locked as his pounded into her willing body. Sweat beaded on his brow and his eyes burned with fierce intensity into hers. She hadn't thought she could possibly come again, but the friction of his penis against her slick walls and the way his pelvis was pushing into her clit was sending shards of sensation throughout her body. The final catalyst for her was the sight of Hotch reaching his climax. He clenched his jaw hard, groaning low in his throat, face frozen in a grimace as he spurted his release deep within the depths of her body. Emily shuddered against him as she orgasmed again, this one less intense than her previous ones, almost gentle as it washed softly through her.

He slowly let her down and they stood there, bodies pressed together while they tried to catch their breath. After a while he stepped back.

"Are you all right?" The look of concern on his face caused her heart to clench.

"I'm fine," she whispered. Emily suddenly realised that while she was standing there naked, Hotch was still almost completely dressed. Blushing with embarrassment she looked away from his gaze.

"Don't look away from me, Emily. You're so incredibly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Look." Hotch gently drew her away from the wall to stand before him facing the mirror.

She stared at the mirror, barely recognising herself. The woman in the mirror stared back at her, wide-eyed. Her hair was mess of tousled curls, her cheeks were rosy, her eyes shining brightly. Her lipstick was long gone and her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Her pale body in the foreground contrasted sharply with his dark suit, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She knew that no matter what happened after tonight, she would carry this image for the rest of their lives.

Hotch slipped his arms around her and rested his cheek on her head. He met her gaze in the mirror. "Come home with me tonight?" he asked quietly.

She slowly turned in his arms to face him. She stared at him in wonder. There was that look in his eyes again. And now that she wasn't in the throes of passion, she realised what it was. It was need. This incredibly strong man who projected confidence and control in every situation, who depended on no one, needed her.

"Yes," she answered simply. Because she needed him too.

Sometime later, as the cab drove them to his place, she turned to him to confess the truth. "So I found out today that I was number 2 on the FBI's top 10 Most Unwanted List. Which was why I came to the bar dressed like this tonight." She expected him to looked shocked or surprised. Lift an eyebrow at the very least.

But the only reaction he exhibited was amusement. Not one she had expected. "That's not so bad, is it? Seeing that you were number 3 on the top 10 most desirable females in the FBI?"

Emily could only gape at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"

He grinned at her, his teeth flashing white in the car. "Once I found out that you were on the Unwanted list I asked Garcia to spam the Desirable list until you were on it. I'm just sorry we didn't get you the number 1 spot. _I_ personally think that you are the most desirable woman in the Departments of Justice, State and Homeland Security combined, but unfortunately we hadn't anticipated the sheer number of people whom Peterson-Browning had slept with or the number of people who actually watch the Director's press releases."

Emily was speechless with shock.

"And just so you know, you are very much wanted, by one man at least." He bent down and gave her a brief kiss.

She looked at him, feeling somewhat mollified. Okay, she was more than mollified, she was ecstatically happy. Emily felt her mouth widen into a grin. "So you're saying that I'm number 1 on your top 10 Most Wanted list?"

"Absolutely. In fact, you're the _only_ one on my most wanted list," murmured Hotch just before their lips met again in a kiss that proved to her that he meant every word.

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